


Disturbia

by Burning_Nightingale



Category: Black Magician Trilogy - Trudi Canavan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, Body Horror, Creepy, Demonic Possession, F/M, Family Issues, Friends to Lovers, Insomnia, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mental Instability, Muteness, Nightmare Fuel, Nightmares, Non-Canonical Character Death, Non-Canonical Violence, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Post-Canon, Psychological Horror, Trials
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-09-23
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:55:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/Burning_Nightingale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six weeks after the Ichani Invasion, Sonea's death has left Akkarin withdraw and non-communicative. He worries Lorlen, who after reluctantly accepting the post of High Lord is plagued by a series of horrific nightmares which only seem to grow worse as time passes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dancing Bears

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever multi-chapter BMT fic (there's a special place in my heart for this thing). Hopefully the start won't weird you out or bore you (or the whole thing, really). The first part is odd; the second part sort of sets the scene and fills you in on what sort of time this is set, and how the characters are all feeling etc. Weirdness ahoy ;)

_Dancing bears,_

_Painted wings,_

_Things I almost…remember._

Sunlight pierced Lorlen's eyes. He blinked and opened them. He was standing in a long corridor, and the sunlight streamed in through tall windows in the left hand wall. Soft music was coming from a half open door at the far end of the corridor. It sounded like a music box, tinkling and melodious. The music filled him with a longing, an aching yearning to be near  _something._ He followed the sound to the door and passed through it. He stood in a gloomy room, full of furniture covered in dust sheets. On one table, stood against the far wall, a collection of ornaments sat, the dust sheet pulled back. Beautiful plates and vases covered in gorgeous paintings glittered in the light reflected from a floor so highly polished it sparkled. Lorlen wandered over, trailing his fingers over the smooth surfaces.

The music sounded again, the same sweet tinkle of notes. He followed it through the next doorway into another long corridor. The music was louder here. The intense longing coursed through him, and he ran down the corridor out into a wide entrance hall. The ceiling flew away like a cathedral, and massive doors were closed tight, bordered by windows on either side. Opposite, two grand staircases ascended to the first floor. Between them a wide door was open to a magnificent ballroom. Lorlen heard the music, this time accompanied by a voice.

_Dancing bears,_

_Painted wings,_

_Things I almost, remember,_

He rushed up the left hand staircase, taking the steps two at a time.

_And the song, someone sings,_

_Once, upon a December,_

Another wide door stood at the top of the staircases. This led to a large balcony overlooking the ballroom. Two thrones had been built into the wall, facing the room, and a beautiful gilt framed picture of a family hung on the wall, taller than five men.

A single woman stood in the middle of the dance floor, spinning and singing softly, her red hair like a flame in the soft light.

_Someone holds me safe and warm,_

_Horses prance through a silver storm,_

_Figures dancing gracefully,_

_Across, my memory…_

As her voice faded, music swelled and ghostly figures began to appear, dancing silently. In seconds they were solid, dancing and twirling in the bright costumes of a court, ladies and gentlemen spinning and whirling.

Lorlen descended the steps. He caught the hand of a nearby lady and began to dance. He traded partners, trying to get to the woman in the centre, who was still singing.

_Far away, long ago,_

_Burning dim as an ember,_

_Things my heart, used to know,_

_Things it longs to remember,_

Spinning away from another woman, Lorlen found himself in the centre of a small circle. He turned to the woman, who was standing on the other side. She held out a hand. He crossed to her and took it, pulling her into a dance. They stepped lightly, slowly, while she softly sang;

_And the song,_

_Someone sings…_

She pulled away, still singing quietly, to kneel in a graceful, formal bow on the floor.

_Once, upon a December…_

She lifted her head, and Lorlen suddenly recognised her. "Vinara?" he asked quietly.

_0_

Lorlen sat up in bed with a jolt. He breathed hard for a minute, and then relaxed back onto his pillows. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he checked his timepiece. Almost time to get up. What an odd dream he'd had. The grand palace, the dancing, the song, and then  _Vinara…_

_Weird,_ he thought, getting up to dress. He sighed as he opened the cupboard. Hanging inside were his new robes; white as snow, the incal of the High Lord sewn neatly onto each sleeve. He hadn't really wanted to be High Lord, but he understood the Guild's need to have someone they trusted irrevocably in the highest position of power, so he had accepted his promotion. He pulled the robes on and swept downstairs. His servant greeted him with a smile and warm breakfast, and he ate while reading a report that Osen had sent him about the city rebuilding. He smiled to himself. He had trained Osen well, and the young man was making an excellent start as Administrator.

Upon finishing his breakfast, he started towards the University. He should probably check in with Osen before his day of meetings started. He wasn't due in court for another two weeks, since most of the houses hadn't yet arrived back from the other Allied Lands.

Lush plant life surrounded him on his walk, the gardens having come into full bloom only a week ago.  _Six weeks since the battle,_ Lorlen thought, staring around him.  _And none of this was affected. Life still goes on._ He caught sight of a flash of black through the foliage, and his chest constricted.

Akkarin.

Akkarin hadn't spoken to him since the Invasion. Technically, he hadn't spoken to anyone, but it still hurt. He didn't think he could understand; Akkarin had lost everything. Lorlen's heart still hurt to think of Sonea, giving her life so young to protect the city. And yet, somehow he resented her; leaving Akkarin behind, making him withdraw into himself. He knew it was stupid, but some part of him _blamed_  her for making his friend this way.

Lorlen had tried to speak to him. All he'd got was a blank look and no words. Lorlen couldn't think of a way around the problem. He'd spoken to Akkarin as much as he could, in whatever free time he had, but there had been no reaction apart from his blank stares turning into angry glares. It had become obvious that Akkarin didn't want to talk and didn't want to be talked to. Lorlen had left him alone, stressing the need to get him to come out of his shell to Takan; the only other he thought may be able to convince Akkarin to speak. But Takan, ever loyal, had not pressed his master, and had simply sat with him and followed him wherever he went.

Lorlen peered through the trees. Akkarin was wandering aimlessly along a path, Takan trailing behind him. Lorlen's frustration at Takan rose again. How could he watch his master torture himself so and do nothing? He considered trying to talk to Akkarin again, but continued onwards instead. Akkarin had nothing to say to him, and until he came out of his silence on his own, it was almost sure that nothing Lorlen could say would convince him to speak.

Lorlen reached the University steps and began to climb. He felt a shiver of dread as he realised it was the start of the day for novices; all of them would be coming into classes, hanging around while they waited for their lessons to begin. He reached the top of the stairs and headed right, towards the door in the side wall which led to the Administrator's Office. A swarm of novices parted like a sea before him, a ripple of bows running through them. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn't help feeling self conscious. It wasn't as if people hadn't bowed to him when he was the Administrator; but when people, especially novices, bowed to the High Lord, they did it with a strange mix of awe and fear that he had never experienced before. He wondered if he'd ever get used to it.

He reached Osen's door with relief and knocked. The door swung open, and he entered with a smile. Osen didn't look up at his visitor, so intent was he on the papers in front of him. He simply made an 'mmm' noise with a tinge of what sounded like annoyance and motioned impatiently to his desk. When Lorlen didn't move, Osen huffed, "Perin, if I have to tell you again to take these letters to the courier I swear I'll…well I don't know what, but please do it."

Lorlen smirked. "Dear, I do hope I was never as rude to you as you are to your assistant, Osen."

Osen jumped almost halfway out of his chair in fright. He stared up at Lorlen with a mix of horror and embarrassment that made Lorlen laugh loudly. "Oh-Lorlen, I didn't- I mean, I don't-"

"It's fine Osen," Lorlen said, moving to sit in a chair. "I'm sure I was very short tempered at times. Being the Administrator is a hard job."

Osen shifted uncomfortably and didn't say anything. Lorlen sighed. "I'm beginning to see that Administrator is a job much harder than the High Lord's. That's probably why you're allowed to resign from your post, whereas I must keep mine forever…"

Osen looked concerned. "Do you regret taking the position?" he asked quietly.

Lorlen smiled. "No, no I don't. I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I watched you do it for long enough," Osen said with a cheeky smirk.

"Now, now Administrator, respect for your superior."

"Superior," Osen snorted. Lorlen raised an eyebrow disapprovingly at him and he hastily swallowed the rest of his clever remark. "What can I help you with today, High Lord?" he asked with mock sincerity.

"Nothing. I simply came to see how things were running. It can be incredibly boring, attending meetings. When you attend a meeting, you see, they expect you to participate, which means you will know something about whatever is being discussed. However, the High Lord is expected to attend meeting simply so whatever goes on is conducted underneath his eye, which is entirely dull for me. Magicians argue for hours on one topic or another and make meaningful comments referring to something I know nothing about, and I have no idea what they're talking about." He laughed suddenly, "That's probably why Akkarin never said anything; he never knew what meetings were about!"

Osen smiled, but didn't laugh. He could sense the pain behind his friend's words; he missed Akkarin, and blamed himself for not being able to bring him out of his stupid silence. Osen hated Akkarin for making Lorlen feel so guilty. His friend needed to feel confident and be able to focus on his job as High Lord. However much he tried to pass it off, being High Lord was a huge responsibility. Lorlen knew this, but his concern for his friend hampered his ability to fully focus, and even if he didn't realise it, Osen did. He needed to do something about it, and fast. The Administrator and High Lord were supposed to be an unbreakable team, working seamlessly together to ensure the Guild's continued prosperity. If Lorlen couldn't focus fully, they couldn't perform to the standard they were capable of, the full extent of which the Guild needed to continue to function in these difficult times.

Osen had considered sending Akkarin to the Healers; if his friend reacted to only talking about Akkarin in passing so badly, should he be more concerned about the issue? Osen took a deep breath. He would find out.

"Lorlen?"

"Mmmm?"

"Have you spoken to Akkarin recently?"

The pain on Lorlen's face was enough. "Something is wrong with him, isn't it?"

"I don't know, Osen." Lorlen's voice sounded constricted. "I've tried talking to him about  _everything_ , and tried anything else I can think of, but…"

Osen frowned. "It's not your fault, Lorlen," he said quietly. "Akkarin could be suffering from something serious, and he could need serious help."

Lorlen stared at Osen with pleading eyes. "He isn't ill, Osen," Lorlen said, but his voice lacked conviction; he seemed to be imploring Osen to confirm his statement. "He's just sad."

Osen shook his head. "You were a healer, Lorlen. You know something more is wrong with him. I promised Vinara I would send him to her if he got worse; I think he has." Osen leaned forward and stared into Lorlen's eyes, "He'll get better if he's helped, Lorlen. He just needs professional help."

Lorlen looked away, down at the floor. "Whatever you say," he whispered.

Osen frowned slightly. Lorlen was never this passive…Was something else wrong? Before he had a chance to ask, Lorlen rose to his feet. "Do whatever you deem necessary, Osen," he sighed quietly. "I have a meeting to attend. I will see you soon." Osen looked after him with concerned eyes. He knew putting Akkarin in the Healer's care would be the best option; but why did Lorlen feel against it?

Lorlen walked through the thankfully quiet corridor. He knew Osen would sense his conflict over Akkarin if he mentioned him. He also knew that Vinara and Osen were considering sending him to the Healers. So why on earth had he mentioned it?  _Maybe I wanted Osen to see,_ Lorlen thought.  _Perhaps I know, somewhere, that something is more wrong with Akkarin than he or I know how to fix. Perhaps I should admit that I am wrong and support Vinara and Osen in placing him in the Healer's care._

He shook his head, confused. There was no answer he could give himself. He supposed he would just have to trust Lady Vinara's judgement, when it came. If she believed Akkarin should be put under the Healer's supervision, then he wouldn't argue. She knew best, after all.

He furrowed his brow as he considered the strange dream he had woken up from. What was it about that that made him feel so strange? He had odd dreams all the time; everyone did. But why did this one feel  _so_ strange?

He reached the door of the first meeting and tried to shrug off his distraction. He was needed as the High Lord now; cold and calm, judging and superior. His heart ached to act towards others in this way, but it had to be done. Nothing else would satisfy the members of his Guild. _  
_

 


	2. Please Try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned it would get gruesome, and it does slightly at the end. Shouldn't be writing this at night. Damn my brain.

Lorlen’s servant had taken her up to the Morning Room. When the High Lord got back from his strenuous day, he casually informed him that, “A lady is here to see you, my lord.” Lorlen nodded and followed the servant up. The man opened the door and bowed, allowing Lorlen to walk in ahead of him. A chair had been pulled into the middle of the room from the casual arrangements set out, and she sat in it, back to the door. Lorlen stood, shocked, in the doorway, while the servant announced, “The High Lord, Lady Delvon,” and retreated from the room.

The lady rose from her seat and turned imperiously to face Lorlen. Regaining his composure, he said, “It is wonderful-”

“No need for pleasantries,” the woman snapped. “I am here for one thing and one thing only. Eight weeks ago, you exiled my son from this land. And now, though he has returned, my heart does not feel the joy that it might. Why? Because he is in a comatose state from which he refuses to withdraw. I know the reason for this; that dead slum girl. What I seek to know is only one thing. Why, on the honourable name of Kyralia _why,_ was he allowed to associate with such a woman?”

Lorlen stared at her, gobsmacked. Was it his imagination, or was she really asking him why he (or the Guild) had let Akkarin love Sonea? That was absurd!

_But then,_ Lorlen thought, _the poisonous bitch never did care anything for his personal feelings anyway. Her heart filled with joy, oh please. She wouldn’t know joy if it ran up and bit her in her perfectly clothed behind._

“Lady Delvon,” Lorlen began acidly, “I am quite sure that the rules of the Guild do not extend to controlling the personal feelings of our members. I can assure you that while Sonea may have been from the slums, she was as honourable and lovely a woman as I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and Akkarin’s _comatose state_ has been brought on by the horrific tragedy of her early death.”

Lady Delvon stared at him, affronted. “I don’t believe you quite understand me, High Lord,” she said stiffly.

“I do believe I do,” Lorlen said in a clipped tone. “If you wish to discuss the merits of life partners for your son, I would suggest you do it _with_ your son, and do not bother me with it.”

Lady Delvon’s eyes narrowed. “Are you implying,” she asked, her voice ice, “that you _approved_ of their union?”

Lorlen nodded, savouring the look of horror that played across her face. “Akkarin is my best friend,” he said quietly. “Whatever makes him happy makes me happy. And Sonea was a lovely woman, and a grievous loss.”

Lady Delvon drew herself up. “I believe, then, that that is all that needs be said on the matter. Believe me, High Lord; the family of Delvon are not pleased about this development. That he should have lost his place as High Lord, been exiled, and then reduced to this state…We are not happy, and action will be taken.”

“Lady Delvon,” Lorlen said softly, taking on a more soothing tone, “we are trying to help Akkarin. Today I discussed his health and our concerns over it with Lady Vinara, and she is adamant that he will recover and move on. With her help, this loss will not scar him in this way forever.”

“And yet it was you who let him fall into this state.” Lady Delvon shook her head. “We will not have it. My husband is livid. You will feel the consequences of your actions, High Lord. Good day.” She swept out of the room without a backward glance. Lorlen sighed heavily and sank into the chair she had occupied. _Just another worry to add to my list. Why do they choose_ now _to begin caring about their son? They barely even wanted contact with him before._

A knock on the door woke him from his reverie. His servant stood just inside the door, face apologetic. “Lady Vinara and the Administrator are here to see you, High Lord. Shall I ask them to return at another time?”

“No, no,” Lorlen waved a hand, “Send them up, please.”

Vinara and Osen moved into the room a minute later. Lorlen indicated that they should take seats, and his servant pulled two more into the centre of the room to form a small circle. The Administrator and Head of Healer’s sat down, both looking serious. Osen opened his mouth to speak, but Vinara cut him off with a sharp, “High Lord, do you feel well?”

Lorlen looked at her questioningly. “Quite well, Lady Vinara. Tired, perhaps.”

She frowned. “Very, from the look of it. I was always saying you overworked yourself as Administrator, and here I am beating out the same message now you are High Lord. ” Her frown deepened.

“I assure you, I am well,” he said softly. “Only, my last visitor gave me rather a problem to contend with.”

“Oh?” Osen asked, “What kind of a problem?”

“It was Akkarin’s mother,” Lorlen sighed. “The family has chosen _now_ to become interested in their son’s wellbeing; rather a turnaround from the unresponsive and uncaring situation they preferred before. Lady Delvon insinuated that we, the Guild, are to blame for his current state of health, caused, according to her, by our allowance of his relationship with Sonea.” Lorlen rubbed his eyes, exhaling loudly. “What a fuss they will make. Why do people always focus on the unimportant details?”

Both Osen and Vinara regarded him sympathetically. “No one will support her apart from her family, Lorlen,” Osen said comfortingly. “They don’t really have a leg to stand on.”

Lorlen smiled. “No. I suppose I shouldn’t worry about it. Now, what did you come here for?”

Vinara straightened and took a deep breath. “Our conversation earlier,” she began, “gave me reason to think that Akkarin’s mental state is more serious a problem then I realised when he came to us after the Invasion. I believe that what we were discussing should be put into action; he should be taken into the care of the Healer’s. He probably won’t like it, but it is the best thing we can do to put him on the path to recovery.” Vinara looked at Lorlen with an expression that said she did not really want to say what she was about to. “Lorlen…” she hesitated.

“You want me to tell him.” Lorlen guessed. They both nodded. “Yes, I think it is for the best.” He rose from his chair. “I suppose I had better get it done, then. Would you like to move him in tonight?”

“The earlier the better,” Vinara replied.

They went downstairs and out of the Residence, heading towards the Magician’s Quarters. When they reached Akkarin’s room, Vinara caught Lorlen’s arm. “You go in and tell him,” she said quietly. “I’ll go and gather some Healers to move him.” Lorlen nodded, and knocked. Osen and Vinara disappeared down the corridor, Osen giving him a strange, lingering look before he vanished around the corner.

Takan opened the door. “Greetings, High Lord,” he said quietly, bowing. He gestured for him to come inside. Lorlen entered and looked around. Things were tidy and ordered, but there was no sense of Akkarin’s personal presence; so different from the room he had occupied as a Novice. Takan pulled out one of the low chairs for him, and Lorlen sat. The servant disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Lorlen nervous outside. He pulled his fingers, a silly mannerism that he adopted when feeling nervous and uncomfortable. What on earth was he going to say?

Takan appeared again, followed by Akkarin. Lorlen dropped his gaze to the floor, still pulling nervously at his fingers. He heard Akkarin sit down opposite from him. A silence filled the room. “Would you like anything, my lord?” Takan asked quietly. Lorlen shook his head, too nervous to speak. When he had come he had felt able to do this; but how could he tell his friend that he was consigning him to a fate that he would despise?

Lorlen peeked up at Akkarin from under his lashes. His friend was staring at him blankly. Taking a deep breath, Lorlen lifted his head and looked at him properly. No point in wasting time. “Akkarin,” Lorlen began purposefully, “you know I- _we_ \- are worried about you. Your withdrawn and reclusive state has upset even your family; your mother visited me this afternoon to tell me of your family’s distress over your condition.” Akkarin looked away, his face adopting a slight sneer. “Yes, I didn’t give much credence to her claims either. However, she may be justified in the content of her argument, at least.” Akkarin turned to face him again with a small frown. Lorlen took another deep breath. “Vinara has brought it to my attention that your condition may be worse than she first diagnosed. She wants-” Lorlen cleared his throat, “she wants you to…to surrender yourself into the Healer’s care,” he said in a rush. “She believes it is what’s best for you. That it will help you recover.” Lorlen had looked away, and now looked back to find Akkarin glaring at him with the question, ‘And what do _you_ think?’ written all over his face. Lorlen’s breath choked in his throat. “I think it will be good for you, Akkarin,” he said, almost inaudibly. “I know you think you don’t need help, but…maybe you do, and-” Lorlen tried not to choke up again, “and I don’t know if letting you stay in the way you think you want will help you to recover from this,” Lorlen finished, his voice a scratchy whisper.

Akkarin was staring at him disbelievingly. “Just try it Akkarin,” Lorlen said, leaning towards him, “it might help you. You might start to feel better.” Akkarin looked away, his face betraying nothing. He rose silently and held out an arm, almost as if waiting to be shackled. “Akkarin…” Akkarin glared at him, fiercely, daring him to speak another word. _I’ll agree,_ his face said, _because I don’t care._

Lorlen sighed. “Lady Vinara will be here soon,” he said, and walked to the door. Akkarin followed him, and when he opened it, he found Vinara and a crowd of Healers outside. Lorlen stepped aside and allowed Vinara and the Healers to draw Akkarin away with them down the corridor. As they went, Akkarin turned his head back and stared pointedly at him. Lorlen mouthed, ‘Please try’. Akkarin frowned and turned away, and they disappeared from view as they turned into the next corridor.

“Was it hard?” a soft voice asked at his shoulder. Lorlen turned to find Osen staring at him, concern in every feature of his face.

“More than I care to think,” Lorlen replied quietly. “But it’s done now. I doubt I could have done it better had I prepared myself. I’m sorry Osen; I’m so tired. I am afraid I must go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Osen gave him that strange look again; Lorlen couldn’t put a finger on what emotions were expressed in his cloud grey eyes. “Yes, tomorrow. Good night.”

Lorlen turned and departed, glancing covertly back to find Osen watching him go, that strange look still etched on his face.

_0_

_Lorlen woke up in his bed. It was still night._ What woke me? _he thought. He looked at his window; the screens were open, when he was certain they had been shut…_

“Lorlen.” _The voice spoke from the other side of the room. Lorlen jumped and turned towards it. There was a dark shadow in the corner._

_“Who’s there?” he asked, voice shaking._

_The shadow advanced, slowly. “We blame you,” it said. “You know you could have saved us. And yet you_ did not. _And now…”_

_The shadow emerged into the moonlight, and Lorlen shrank back in terror. It was a human body, rotted beyond recognition, with worms boring through the eyeholes and maggots squirming under the flesh. Over the scream rising from Lorlen’s throat, it said, “_ We know how to find you.”

_0_

Lorlen woke, sweating and panting, in his own bed. He looked around wildly, expecting the monster to be upon him again. But all was still, and his screens were shut tight over his window.

He collapsed back against his pillow. _All this worry,_ he thought. _It’s seeping into my subconscious._

Rolling over, Lorlen knew that sleep would be hard to come by again tonight.

 

 


	3. A Block Of Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I had real fun writing this chapter Lots of these ideas came to me very randomly, especially with the old man and Lorlen spying on the conversation…Just randomly popped into my head.

_Lorlen was in the hallway. His heart pounded, he could hear them, they were coming for him, coming…_

Thump. Thump. _Their deformed, rotted limbs carried them with uneasy, sickening gaits, hands helping to drag them. Their repugnant smell choked in his throat, and he backed away down the corridor, reaching backwards to grasp at the doorframe of the next room._

_Nails scrabbled at the door only a few seconds after he pushed it closed, hands that had half fallen apart searching desperately for a way in. “We want you,” they called, voices dead and hollow. “Come to us, Lorlen. Sink into our_ embrace… _”_

_A hand clamped down on his shoulder. Spinning wildly, he shrieked and pulled backwards. The same rotting corpse as before was standing behind him. “We’re here now…” it whispered, a sing song softness masking the horrific deadness of the voice._

_“Who are you?” Lorlen screeched._

_“We are the dead.” The corpse said softly. “You let us die.”_

_“I don’t even know you!” Lorlen howled, shrinking away towards the opposite wall._

_“You will.”_

_0_

Lorlen woke choking on a scream, sweating, constricting sheets wrapped around him. He lay in the dark panting, heart pounding, pounding. _What_ was _that dream?_ he thought. Hysterical tears threatened to spill, and he let them pour down over his cheeks, sobbing into the pillow. _I was so scared. So scared._

_It was just a dream, just a dream,_ he thought, trying to soothe himself. He rolled back and forth, and fell back into an uneasy sleep.

_0_

Lorlen woke in the morning and went to the baths. Relaxing in the warm water, he considered the strange, frightening dream. He would rather forget it, let it go. But something niggled at the back of his mind; a lesson he had had back in the University, about the importance of managing stress. “Stress makes it more likely that illness will be able to take hold on the body,” the teacher had said. “It can take many forms; flu, colds, headaches, feeling sick, bad dreams…”

_Bad dreams,_ Lorlen thought. _Stress…Maybe I should talk to Lady Vinara…_ But what would she do? She couldn’t decrease his workload. She would only give him some stern advice to get more rest and work a little less. He could probably get a sleeping drug from another Healer, but he knew the dangers of becoming addicted to such things. Better to simply work out how to handle it on his own 

An hour later he rose from the bath and returned from the residence. His servant served him breakfast in his private dining room, and he read some letters which had been received today. Among them a letter from the palace read:

 

_Dear High Lord,_

_Lord and Lady Delvon have filed a complaint about the Guild’s handling of the case of their son. As per procedure, the Court is obligated to start an inquiry into this matter._

_Your presence will be required on the following date, along with the presence of the Administrator and two of the Higher Magicians who you deem to be most related to this case._

_Your presence may be called for again on any other date, and other obligations may have to be interrupted._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Adlen of House Markin, Advisor to the King._

Lorlen sighed heavily. Now not only he had to attend, but Osen and two other Higher Magicians as well?

He swept out of the Residence and towards the University. Reaching the high steps, he ascended and made his way over to Osen’s door. He knocked and the door opened. Osen looked up from his work and gave him a bright smile. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” Lorlen asked bitterly. “I’ve received this.” He tossed the letter onto Osen’s desk. He reached forward, face falling into a frown as he read it.

“They’ve already started this?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lorlen sighed. “It seems you will have to attend as well. I came seeking your view on who else should be present.”

Osen nodded. “Lady Vinara is obvious, of course. She’s responsible for his care and wellbeing. As to another Higher Magician…” Osen thought. “I suppose we need someone to speak on Sonea’s behalf.”

Lorlen groaned inwardly. “Lord Rothen, then.”

“If he agrees,” Osen said quietly. Lorlen rubbed his face with both hands. Behind them, he peeked out and noticed Osen giving him a searching, worried look. “Are you alright, Lorlen?” Osen asked quietly.

“Fine,” he replied. “Sleepless night. Strange dreams.”

“Oh,” Osen nodded. Lorlen turned to leave. “Will you find time to tell them, or should I?” Osen asked.

Lorlen half turned back, considering. “I’ll find time, I’m sure. And I would like to see how Lord Rothen is getting on.” Lorlen nodded decisively, and left the room.

He left the University and started towards the Magician’s Quarters. Out of respect for his loss, Rothen was being given some days in the week off for the first few months. This would also help him manage his duties as Head of Alchemic Studies. Lorlen reached his door within a few minutes, and knocked.

The door opened to Rothen’s servant. The woman looked surprised to see Lorlen at the door, and hesitated a moment before saying, “Good morning, High Lord.” He nodded to her, and she stood aside to let him in. Glancing around, Lorlen noted that no one was present in the guestroom. The servant bustled past him and arranged the chairs, indicting in which one he should sit. He took his place and she bowed before saying, “Lord Rothen is in his room, my lord. I shall just fetch him. I assume it is with him you wish to speak?”

“Yes.” She nodded, and hurried off through a side door, closing it tight behind her. Lorlen looked around slowly. Rothen’s rooms were much the same as the last time he had entered them; plain, but homely.

Another side door opened quietly to Lorlen’s left. He looked towards it, and observed Rothen’s son, Dorrien, appearing from behind it. Dorrien started rather alarmingly when he noticed Lorlen, and he inclined his head hurriedly. “Good morning, High Lord.”

“Good morning,” Lorlen answered quietly.

Dorrien stood in silence for a minute, obviously casting about for what to say. “I…I assume you are here to talk to Father?” Lorlen nodded. “Oh, yes, of course. Uhmm.” Lorlen hid a grimace at Dorrien’s awkwardness. _If I were the Administrator, he would not feel so uncomfortable._ A disturbing thought popped into Lorlen’s head. _What if I remind him of Akkarin?_ Lorlen didn’t know whether he reminded people of his friend. He only had two examples on which to base his knowledge of appropriate attitude and behaviour, and more of his contact had been with Akkarin’s example. He also didn’t know whether he would like or dislike reminding people of him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the return of the servant, and behind her, Lord Rothen. Rothen looked tired and haggard; weighed down by grief. Lorlen saw the instant change in his son’s face, and felt his heart go out to both of them. Rothen sat down across from him and Lorlen noticed with shock how much older the man looked.

“High Lord,” Rothen smiled. “It’s nice to see you again. Are you well?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good.” Rothen sighed. “So, what can I help you with?”

Lorlen breathed in deeply. “You have heard of Akkarin’s current…condition?” he asked softly.

An unidentifiable emotion flitted across Rothen’s face. He nodded. “Yes, I have.”

“His family have contacted me with a compliant over how we have dealt with the situation. Since I told them I could not help them, they have taken it to the Court inquiry.” Rothen looked confused. He obviously didn’t see how this involved him. Lorlen pressed on. “I have been asked to attend, as has the Administrator, and two other Higher Magicians whom we believe to be most related to this case.” Rothen’s face hardened slightly, and Lorlen had to resist the temptation to wince. “Lady Vinara is the obvious choice in the case of his health, but the family have also accused us of failing to foresee the danger of the relationship that brought on his current state,” Rothen’s face spasmed with pain faintly at the mention of the relationship. “The fact that it was completely out of our control seems to be of no consequence to the family,” Lorlen added bitterly.

Beside Rothen, Dorrien was frowning. “You’re asking him to come to Court and speak about Sonea? Now?” Dorrien asked quietly, anger hidden barely in the tight tone of his voice. Lorlen decided to let it slide. After all, he was being pretty callous. He nodded. Dorrien face drew tight with anger, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Rothen cut him off with a look.

“If you wish me to speak in Sonea’s defence,” he said slowly, “then I would be honoured to accept.”

“Thank you. That is what we seek.” Rothen nodded. Dorrien’s face was still taunt with suppressed anger, but he held his tongue. Lorlen rose from his seat gracefully. “Thank you for listening to me, Lord Rothen. I am glad you have accepted; you will be the one most well positioned to speak on this matter. I will have Osen send you the date and some more details. Good day.” He strode out of the room, smiling lightly at Rothen’s servant as she held the door open for him. When it closed, Lorlen held still a minute and caught the faint sounds of Dorrien’s angry voice. Checking that no one was around, he pressed his ear to the door.

“It’s idiotic, Father!” Dorrien said loudly. “Why should you have to speak in defence of Akkarin? He’s-”

“I’m not speaking in defence of Akkarin, Dorrien, I am making sure to keep Sonea’s name clear, and helping the Guild defend itself.”

“They still have no right to-”

“They have every _right_ , Dorrien, to do whatever-”

“You’re blinded by faith to them, Father! You can’t let them push you around!”

“You sound like you don’t trust the Guild!”

“Father…” Dorrien trailed off. “Father, it’s just something about this case. Why are you so important to it, anyway?”

“Who else is more involved?” Rothen asked tiredly. “I was there from the beginning of it all. I should know.”

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s not as if you were even asked nicely.”

“What do you mean, Dorrien?” Rothen asked in a dangerous tone.

“There’s something about him.” Dorrien said quietly.

“Whom?” Rothen asked.

There was a silence. “The High Lord?” Rothen asked. Lorlen’s breath quickened.

“Yes,” Dorrien agreed. “Since he _became_ the High Lord, I mean. Don’t you think he changed?”

Rothen sighed. “Dorrien, being the High Lord is different to being the Administrator. If you were here more, you would understand. A different demeanour is needed for each job. Lorlen has simply switched his outward personality from a deeply involved and, well, flustered personality, to a more restrained and calm outward appearance.”

“And you think that’s a good thing?”

“Him being less flustered certainly seems a good thing.”

“More like a block of ice.” Lorlen’s heart constricted.

“Dorrien, don’t say that. It must be hard for him.”

Dorrien huffed, and was about to speak again, but Lorlen heard footsteps coming down the corridor, so he straightened quickly and walked away. He rounded the corner and passed a surprised magician who quickly bowed to him. He only nodded. His head was buzzing; the conversation he had overheard had been intriguing, and not a little disturbing. _A block of ice_? Was that really what Dorrien thought? And what about Rothen, saying he ‘needed to switch personalities’ or something like that? Was switching personalities a good thing or a bad thing? Lorlen was so engrossed in his own thoughts he didn’t notice the magician coming the other way until he bumped into him. “I-I’m so sorry,” Lorlen spluttered. He turned round to face the magician.

An exceptionally old man was looking at him. The old magician looked him up and down, then gave him a glare filled with a strange hatred. Lorlen recoiled automatically from him. The man glared harder and whispered, “What strangers lie here? I remember when a High Lord would have sentenced a magician to forty weeks hard labour in the quarries for simply looking at him the wrong way! And now, I bump into _you_ , and all you do is splutter and mumble? I _glare_ at you, and you can’t think of a thing to say?” The old man laughed cruelly. “You may have them all fooled, _High Lord_ , but you can’t fool me. I see a weak heart inside you. You’d better strengthen it before the testing times ahead…” With that the old man turned and walked away, still chuckling, leaving Lorlen rooted to the spot with shock. 


	4. A Problem With Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: If you don't like blood, don't read the last dream.

_Lorlen was running. The way ahead was black darkness, but he kept running, for whatever lay before him could not be worse than what was behind. A whole hoard of them, an army, running and crawling and shuffling behind him, always keeping pace no matter how deformed their limbs or how fast he ran. Panic gripped vice-like at his chest, and he sobbed out in terror at the eerie, disgusting sounds that echoed down the tunnel after him._

_“Leave me alone, leave me alone!” he screamed back at them. They ignored him, even seemed to renew their chase, the dead grip of their hands only centimetres from the back of his robes…_

_0_

Lorlen awoke yet again covered in sweat and gasping. That was the third dream tonight, and it was barely dawn. Deciding to get up early rather than risk sleep again, Lorlen wandered through the early morning mist to the Baths. After washing, and feeling refreshed, he returned to his home for breakfast. A full day of meetings, planning, and more meetings awaited him, and the first one started early. It was nearing the end of the day when he finally had time to himself. Glancing around his desk in the Library, he noticed a note that had been dropped there after he had left. It said:

_Dear High Lord,_

_I fear we have encountered problems with Akkarin’s recovery. I think it would be helpful to our situation if you were to visit him. Any reasonable time will be acceptable._

_Lady Vinara._

Lorlen ran a hand through his hair. _Problems with his recovery._ What did that mean? He knew that Akkarin wouldn’t take well to the Healers’ efforts; but something must be seriously wrong for Vinara to call him. He dropped the note and hurried to the Healer’s Quarters, where he met Lady Vinara in her office.

“Good of you to come quickly, High Lord,” she said as she led him through the corridors. “We’ve put him on the top floor.”

Lorlen followed her up flights of stairs until they reached a door. “In here,” Vinara indicated. Lorlen turned the handle and went through.

Akkarin was sitting in a chair by the window. The only other furniture in the room was a soft-looking bed and a cabinet and surface for storing and applying medicine. Akkarin gazed out of the window dully and didn’t seem to notice Lorlen’s entrance. He looked back at Lady Vinara. She nodded and closed the door silently. Lorlen looked back at his friend. He hadn’t moved; he didn’t look particularly captivated by the view, but he seemed to be refusing to look inside the room. Lorlen moved over and sat on his bed, facing him. “Akkarin?” he asked quietly.

Akkarin turned round to look at him, surprise registering slightly on his face. Lorlen smiled. “You didn’t think I’d abandoned you to this lot, did you?” he asked lightly. Akkarin’s response was a look of such sorrow and desperation that Lorlen’s heart lurched. “You know I’d never forget about you, Akkarin,” he said fiercely. Akkarin nodded. “Good.” Lorlen breathed in the smell of the room. It was distinctly flowery, with an antiseptic smell underneath. “How are you?” he asked Akkarin quietly. Akkarin gave him the same awful look as before. “Really that bad?” Lorlen asked sadly. Akkarin nodded. “Oh, what can I do, Akkarin?” Lorlen sighed, throwing his hands in the air slightly. “You can’t be on your own; you need company, someone to bring you out of this state. But you hate it here. What can I do?” Akkarin shrugged. Lorlen rubbed his face tiredly. “I’ll figure something out for you, Akkarin,” Lorlen promised. “You won’t stay here for long. I knew you’d hate it,” he confided, voice dropping, “but I agreed anyway. I was so worried about you. I still am.” Akkarin gave him a look that said clearly, ‘I’m sorry.’ “I know,” Lorlen whispered, “I know.”

There was a knock. “Come in,” Lorlen called. Akkarin shifted and went back to resolutely staring out of the window. Lady Vinara came in, a few other Healers hanging back at the door.

“You see?” Vinara said. “Not only does he not speak, he now refuses to look anywhere except the window. We have theorised…” Lorlen winced at Vinara’s impersonal tone and the way she talked as if Akkarin weren’t there. She didn’t do it often, but sometimes her clinical mind got the better of her. She rambled on into various theories, with the Healers by the door nodding and making comments as she went. Lorlen barely listened; his attention was focused on Akkarin. His friend stared doggedly out of the window, unresponsive to anything going on around him. Lorlen’s heart ached with sympathy, and he wished he could make it better.

_He wants out of here,_ Lorlen thought, _but he can’t go back to his rooms. If only I…_ Something occurred to him. What if Akkarin stayed with him? It might remind him of painful memories, but it had to be better than here. Akkarin hated it here, no matter how nice and accommodating the Healers were. He wasn’t free.

“Lady Vinara,” Lorlen interrupted her speech firmly. She stared at him for a second.

“Yes?”

“Will you give me one last chance to get Akkarin to respond to me?”

Vinara looked doubtful, but she nodded and motioned to the Healers to draw out of the room. She herself left with the words, “Two minutes, Lorlen.”

Lorlen turned back to Akkarin. “Akkarin, I’ve had an idea.” Akkarin looked at him again, interest lighting in his eyes. “What if you came to live with me?” Lorlen asked quietly. Akkarin stared at him. “I know it might bring back some memories,” Lorlen continued, “but it has to be better than here, and they won’t let you go anywhere else.”

Akkarin considered, then nodded. “You want to?” Lorlen asked hopefully. Akkarin nodded again. “Good,” Lorlen smiled, then hugged Akkarin quickly. “I’ll go and ask Vinara,” he said, and hurried outside.

Vinara and the other Healers were waiting outside in the corridor, talking quietly. “Well?” Vinara asked tersely. “Did he talk to you?”

Lorlen shook his head. “He didn’t talk, but he did respond to me,” he said. The Healers came forward looking intrigued. Lorlen glanced at them uneasily. “Lady Vinara, may I talk to you alone for a minute?” She nodded, and the other Healers dispersed, looking slightly annoyed.

“What did you want to speak about?” she asked when they’d left.

“You know Akkarin isn’t happy here,” Lorlen said bluntly. She nodded. “We should move him, then.”

She gave a long suffering sigh. “And where exactly _to_ , Lorlen?” she asked, irritation apparent in her voice.

“He could come and live with me.”

She looked at him sharply. “That would only make things worse. You know his memories would be triggered by being there, and for his condition it would only-”

“He wants to come.”

Vinara scowled. “I’m sure he might, but does he know what’s best for him? No.”

“I think he does. And I think that being here is only making him worse.”

Vinara’s face hardened with anger. “We cannot help him if he doesn’t help himself!” she cried. “What am I supposed to do with a patient who refuses every treatment, who won’t respond to anything, and for no conceivable reason!”

“The reason is,” Lorlen let anger colour his voice, “he values his freedom over anything else. He doesn’t want to be cooped up here. He feels trapped!”

Vinara glared at him in silence for a minute, then snapped, “Fine. Fine. Take him to live with you.” She huffed and stamped away. Lorlen winced. He would have to apologise to her when she calmed down, or she would hold it against him for a long while. He sighed and went back into the room.

Akkarin looked up at him hopefully, and Lorlen smiled and nodded. “Pack your things Akkarin!” he said brightly. “You’re getting out of prison!” Akkarin grinned and rose from the chair, quickly crossing the room. “You don’t have anything?” Akkarin shook his head. “Right then.” Lorlen and Akkarin left the Healer’s Quarters and walked round to the Residence. Akkarin stopped for a second outside, looking up at the building. Lorlen glanced back at him. “Akkarin?”

He shook his head and walked through the door. Lorlen smiled and followed him through, watching him carefully for a reaction. In the Guestroom, Akkarin turned and looked at Lorlen expectantly. “You should stay upstairs, in one of the guest bedrooms,” Lorlen said, heading toward the staircase. Akkarin followed him up, and they passed Lorlen’s room, the doors to the library and the private dining room to one of the guest bedroom doors. “You can have this one, and if you want Takan can have the servant’s room next to it.” Akkarin smiled and nodded.

Lorlen watched him as he went in. He popped his head back out and nodded, and Lorlen smiled. “I’ll get a servant to transfer your things from the rooms you were staying in, and contact Takan,” Lorlen said. Akkarin nodded again and disappeared from view with a quick smile. Lorlen smiled too, happy to see his friend looking better. The change had been instantaneous; the minute he had left the Healer’s Quarters, he’d looked better. Lorlen felt that here he would be able to recover, and walked away from the door feeling light and untroubled for the first time in days.

_0_

_Lorlen was in bed. He lay still, listening to the silence. Perturbed, he sat up and climbed out of bed, crossing the room to his private washroom. A sense of unease filled him, though he did not know why. He looked into the mirror, and noticed he looked very pale. Reaching to turn the tap on, he considered his alabaster white skin._ It’s never usually that pale _, he thought. He held a hand under the tap. Something warm and slightly sticky ran over his hand. He looked down and jerked back in horror. Bright red blood was spilling from the tap, much faster than water ever did. Lorlen jumped backwards as the blood began to spill over the side of the basin._

_He reached out for the tap, but it was stuck. The blood was gushing out, so fast, horrific in its brightness. It was soaking into his clothes, staining the pure white red. He choked with the bitter smell of it, and still more stained his hands and clothes._

_“Now you see,” said the awful dead voice. Lorlen whipped round to find the corpse on the other side of the room. “Our blood stains your hands literally now,” the monster continued. It didn’t come for him as usual, simply stood near the wall._

_Lorlen turned, desperately trying to stop the tap. It wouldn’t budge. It risked a glance over his shoulder at the corpse. It hadn’t moved._

_Lorlen looked back at the mirror, and saw that it was cracking. Something was pushing at it from behind, making it bulge out. Cracks appeared, and red liquid began to seep through._ Blood, more blood! _Lorlen thought frantically, still struggling with the tap._

_The mirror was almost covered in the space of a minute. When he looked back up, he noticed a face in one of the clear patches. It was an evil face; made of darkness and malice, yet human in appearance. Lorlen stared, and the face laughed, laughed, until with a bang the mirror shattered outwards into a thousand pieces…_

_0_

Lorlen woke again, breathing hard. The night air was cool on his hot skin as he sat up. Holding his head with one hand, he took some deep breaths. These nightmares were becoming more frequent, and more disturbing. The thought that he should see a Healer niggled at the back of his mind, but he ignored it. _They would think I’ve gone mad, lock me away like Akkarin_ , he thought.

At the thought of his friend, he wondered how he was sleeping. Consumed by impulse, Lorlen jumped out of bed and padded softly down the hall to the door of Akkarin’s room. Pushing it open carefully, he peeked inside. A soft hump lay under the bedclothes. Akkarin’s quiet, undisturbed breathing filled the room, and relief flooded Lorlen. His friend was resting well.

He closed the door quietly and retreated to his own room, hoping that the same good fortune would favour him as well.

 


	5. Dreamland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story just seems to write itself, and it's a real joy to write...Despite all the unpleasant stuff in it. Also, I did not think of all the ideas for the nightmares myself; I looked up nightmares and found a random site where about maybe three of the dreams were true, then adapted them to suit my purposes.

_An unnatural hue of light cast a sickly pall over Lorlen and his surroundings; looking up at the sky, he saw that it was blood red. The sickly stench of blood and death filled the air._

_He was standing on a bridge. Actually, it was more like an aqueduct; thin but well made, it spanned the river and carried a dark liquid in a tract along its length. Lorlen didn’t have to look closely to know it was blood. The bridge’s ends disappeared into the dark, oppressive town which crowded at the edges of the river bank. He could feel eyes watching him from the windows, staring out at him, but he saw no one._

_“So, you’ve come to visit my dominion,” said a voice behind him._

_Lorlen turned, fearful, but didn’t find himself face to face with the corpse. Instead, a strange looking man was standing there. Something clicked in Lorlen’s memory, and he recalled where he had seen this man before; in the mirror, in that strange dream about the taps spewing blood. “Who are you?” he asked._

_The stranger grinned, and Lorlen was struck by just how malicious, malevolent and_ inhuman _his face was. “Not an important question. The more important question would be; just what am I going to do to you?”_

_Lorlen sucked in a quick breath, fear suddenly gripping him, but the stranger was too fast. Unnaturally fast. Pushing his chest and sweeping his legs from under him, the man thrust Lorlen out into empty air. Falling and turning, Lorlen saw the long, dark river below rushing up to meet him. It was only when he broke the surface that he realised the liquid was blood…_

_0_

Lorlen gasped awake, yet again. _Another nightmare,_ he thought. Now would be the best time to see the Healers, yet Lorlen was fearful. What on earth would they think of him with such awful dreams? They would think he was going mad, mad as a hatter.

He swung his feet out of bed and winced as they hit the cold floor. Another day of duties awaited him, a day for which he felt incredibly unprepared. The nights of awful dreams were taking their toll; he could feel his eyelids drifting closed sometimes in meetings, and had to drag himself out of bed each morning with something akin to the inner fortitude of a warrior going into battle. He had once fallen asleep at the breakfast table, only to wake again to the concerned pokes of the forever silent Akkarin. He’d waved off his friend’s silent questions and gone on again, hoping against hope that he could make it through the day.

Upon entering the dining room this morning, Lorlen was greeted with the sight of a stranger sitting at the table opposite Akkarin. At his entry the stranger turned.

“Ah, good morning High Lord.” The man stood and offered his hand. Lorlen shook it with a sense of trepidation. _Who is this person?_ “I’m sure you’re wondering who I am,” the stranger continued. “In line with standard convention, I have been hired by the palace to inspect a subject with whom a case submitted to the court is concerned.”

_Ah, so he’s the inspector from the palace._ “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Lorlen gestured to the man’s seat. “Please, sit.”

The stranger sat. “Now, I should introduce myself. My name is Elian of Family Tresca, House Paren. I have been an inspector for the court for about five years now, since I became of age at eighteen.”

Lorlen nodded. “Lots of experience, then.”

“The Delvon’s demanded it.”

“No doubt,” Lorlen said, barely hiding the edge in his voice. Elian appeared not to notice. “How may we help you first, Elian?”

“I simply need to observe for a day.”

Lorlen dipped his head once, graciously. “That is perfectly acceptable,” he murmured, avoiding the fixed glare that Akkarin was giving him from across the table.

Elian shifted uncomfortably. “Thank you.” At that moment a servant appeared carrying food, and they all dug in silently.

Afterwards, Lorlen rose. “I must make my way to University, Elian,” he said. “I will see you again when this day is through. I hope you all that you find pleases you.”

Elian nodded, looking even more uncomfortable. “I’m sure it will.”

_0_

Lorlen returned just as the stars were beginning to shine. He entered the dark house with a sigh of relief, and didn’t bother to make a globe light; he knew where he was going. Ascending the stairs, he listened for any signs of habitation. He heard nothing. A chink of light was spilling out into the corridor from Akkarin’s room. Lorlen moved to the door and went through, warm light from a few spread globes suffusing the room beyond with warmth.

Akkarin was sitting on a chair, reading, completely alone. He looked up as Lorlen entered, and gave a familiar half smile at his confused expression. “Where is Elian, Akkarin?”

Akkarin made a vague gesture with one hand, which Lorlen interpreted as ‘gone’. “He left?” Akkarin nodded. “Why?” Akkarin shrugged. Sighing, Lorlen moved to the bed and sat down. “Tell me honestly, Akkarin. Did you upset him?” Shake of the head. “Was he displeased with what he found?” Shrug. “Does that mean I don’t know or I don’t care?” Akkarin held up one finger. “You don’t know?” Nod. “Did he not show his feelings?” Nod. “Did he seem to be happy with what he found?” Shrug, with both hands held palm upwards this time. Akkarin truly didn’t know. “Alright, that’s fine,” Lorlen sighed, getting up. “I’ll go and see what my servant says.”

Lorlen’s servant said that Elian had left mid-afternoon, and had not spoken to anyone about his conclusions. Lorlen also spoke to Takan, who said that Elian had been puzzled and confused by Akkarin’s stubborn refusal to talk, and that this had maybe angered him. “I tried to answer his questions, to the best of my ability,” the Sachakan servant said quietly. “But I could not answer all. He kept his emotions very well hidden.” Lorlen thanked him and went to eat his evening meal.

Later, tired and emotionally drained, Lorlen stumbled to his bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

_0_

_Lorlen was lying on the ground, and his face and body were suffused with unbearable heat. His eyes sprung open and immediately shut again; the light from a huge fire burned his tired vision and left spots dancing behind his eyes. Slowly, he cracked open both eyes and saw the world about him._

_The grass underneath him was the front lawn of the University. Instead of understated white towers before him, however, all he saw was a wall of fire, a blazing inferno that was eating the whole building alive. The other Guild buildings were on fire too, all baking in a roaring conflagration of terrible flames and heat._

_Screams floated from the buildings, and Lorlen knew that every single inhabitant was burning, burning, and all the people he knew and cared about were going up in a puff of smoke. Literally._

_He staggered to his feet, trying to shout or howl or even simply speak. He could make no sound, and the reason was soon apparent; thick, choking smoke covered where he stood like a blanket, suddenly obscuring the flames and making him cough and hack. He fell to his knees, clutching his throat. Blackness engulfed him, pulling him down, the screams of the burning following him deep into the abyss…_

_0_

It was the middle of the night. Lorlen lay awake, heart pounding. Another dream, another awful, awful dream.

He shuddered and rolled over, still sleepy, and fell back into the world of nightmares…

_0_

_He was running, running fast through the fields surrounding Imardin. The city’s walls were cracked and broken behind him, and fire spluttered and plumed from behind the crumbling fortifications. He didn’t stop, didn’t turn to see his home destroyed. He couldn’t go back, couldn’t go. Something was waiting there, waiting for him to turn around. But he wouldn’t._

_He focused on running, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Something squished under his foot, and he stumbled. He looked back and his stomach turned; he’d stepped on an arm, a human arm, severed from its body._

_Suddenly there were bodies everywhere; the field was full of them. Lorlen tried not to look. He had to keep going, had to get away from the waiting thing…_

_He ran again, stumbling and tripping, through the endless fields of the dead, always driven onwards by the hopeless fear of what waited behind. But though he ran and ran, he never seemed any further from the city. Desperately he ran faster, but his heart knew. It was keeping him from leaving, changing the very world to prevent his escape. He howled with despair and went faster, but tripped and went flying._

_He landed next to a pile of corpses, a few ravens picking at them. He launched himself from the ground, only to find a hand locked around his ankle. “We are what is waiting, Lorlen,” said the voice of the corpse, “and we’re getting closer. Closer.”_

_0_

Lorlen woke up crying, tears streaming down his face. He let them come, let them spill out over his cheekbones. _Such horrible dreams, make them go away…_

Almost without realising, he shut his eyes and buried his face in the pillow. Within minutes he was asleep once again.

_0_

_A great fire was burning, the centre of a ring of dancing figures. The flickering light filled the high ceilinged cave with odd spots of wavering light and shadow, which threw Lorlen into deep shade behind the large rock. He hid there, watching the shapes of the figures dancing. They were horrific people, more beast than human, and as they danced they cackled with inhuman malice._

_Lorlen cowered behind the rock, desperately fearing one of the monsters would see him. They were intent on their dance, however, and didn’t seem to notice him. Great beasts with the heads of birds and the bodies of lions danced past, followed by an enormous creature with the feet of a bull, the  tail of an eagle, the claws of a bear and the head of a human. Lorlen watched with sick fascination as they capered and cavorted, sometimes knocking into each other and sometimes leaping through the fire in the centre._

_A figure that seemed human passed. As it did, the face turned towards Lorlen, and the eyes stared straight at him. Lorlen froze. The stranger who had pushed him into the river of blood, whose face had appeared in the breaking mirror, was here, dancing with the demons. The stranger gave a chilling smile and danced on, never breaking contact with Lorlen’s eyes._

_0_

He could feel hands gripping his shoulders as he stumbled into consciousness. Gasping and sobbing, he felt himself pulled close to someone. Right at that moment, he couldn’t have cared less who it was; he sobbed and blubbered into their chest, and the person seemed happy to hold him tightly until his tears ran dry.

Pulling away and wiping his eyes, Lorlen looked up. It was Akkarin. He didn’t say anything; he simply looked at him, sympathy and sorrow written all over his face. For once, Lorlen said nothing as well. They stared at each other for a while, before Akkarin pulled him into another hug. Then he pushed on Lorlen’s shoulders, forcing him back into bed. Lorlen reluctantly acquiesced, his eyes fluttering closed as his friend’s hands left his shoulders.

 


	6. The Inquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously enjoy writing this fic, weirdly xD
> 
> Writing this AN while watching Inception. Tip: this is one great movie. Go watch it, it's awesome.

_Cold water covered him, it was everywhere and everything. Blue darkness surrounded him, and he was choking. There was no breath left in his lungs, and he couldn’t hold out much longer. He powered his legs frantically, remembering how to swim, looking for the surface. It was nowhere; he didn’t know which way was up, which way was down. The darkness was closing in over his head, as he desperately struggled towards the light…_

_0_

_Another dream._ The night in which Akkarin had woken him wasn’t the first. Lorlen wasn’t crying this time, but Akkarin hugged him anyway. His best friend understood. He knew Lorlen didn’t want to see the Healers, so he just helped him in any way he could; waking up to someone else was marginally better than being alone, so Lorlen had accepted the fact that Akkarin crept into his bed after the servants were asleep. Sometimes Lorlen could wake and find that he had managed to not wake Akkarin, which always made him feel better. The dreams had been going on for another week, and though Akkarin’s help had made things a little better, Lorlen still felt like he was drowning in them.

He dragged himself out of bed again, ignoring Akkarin’s concerned gestures that he should stay. “I have to go today, Akkarin,” he said as he pulled clothes from the cupboard. “The inquiry hearing is today.” Akkarin rose from the bed and crossed to the door, resting a hand briefly on Lorlen’s shoulder before he went. Lorlen smiled at the door, then pulled on his robes. His heart weighed heavy in his chest; today he would visit the palace with those he had picked to accompany him, and they would present their case in front of the court.

After breakfast he bid goodbye to Akkarin and headed for the University. Osen answered his knock instantly, and when he entered the Administrator’s office he found Osen, Vinara and Rothen all waiting for him. “It seems I am late. Forgive me.”

Vinara eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t look well.”

“I’ve been sleeping badly. Just stress, I’m sure.”

“Humph.” Vinara said nothing more, but Lorlen was sure he would have her talking to him again before long. He would have to find some excuse to pass off his recent sleeping problems with.

“Well, we’re all here. Come; time waits for no one.” Osen rose and the others followed suit. They filed out and into the carriage that awaited them. No one spoke on the journey to the palace. Osen read some legal documents quietly; Vinara sat stiffly, back poker straight, and stared at the opposite headboard; Rothen looked out of the window silently, his expression blankly neutral. They alighted on the palace steps and were met by a greeter.

“The boy will take you where you need to go,” the man said, marking them on his plaque. A small child took them to the doors of a large hall.

“Here’s what you need,” the boy chirped. “It’ll all be starting in a few minutes. They’ll tell you when.” And he scampered off again.

A group of people were waiting outside the doors to the hall, some conversing quietly. Lorlen tried to ignore the glares directed at him by the Delvon family, and much to his relief an official of the court arrived soon after they did. “This hearing will now begin,” he announced. “Follow me please.”

Inside the hall a group of chairs had been set out on both sides, with a smaller group in the middle. The guide directed the magicians to the left group of chairs and the Delvon’s to the right. The officials of the court seated themselves in the centre group. One stood and raised a gong. “All kneel for His Majesty King Merin of Kyralia.”

They all dropped to one knee as the King entered. Lorlen wondered what he was doing here; surely he had better ways to spend his time? Then he remembered that this was about Akkarin, and the king probably wanted to supervise all matters pertaining to the only black magician in his country. “At ease,” the king said as he lowered himself into his chair. A quiet sigh of relief was breathed as everyone settled again.

The man with the gong raised his hand. “This hearing has been called to look into the case of neglect and misjudgement by the Guild of one Akkarin of Family Delvon, House Velan. I will first call forward the speaker for the offense.”

A man from the Delvon’s rose; Lorlen recognised him as Akkarin’s father. “I vow to speak only the truth, and nothing but the truth,” Lord Delvon intoned. “I and my family feel,” he began, “that our only and dearly beloved son has been mistreated by the Guild. When we first heard of the relationship between himself and this slum girl he was involved with, we were horrified. Surely the Guild would see the danger of such a relationship and would seek to stop it? We were sure this would be the case, and yet the Guild allowed our son this folly! We seek fair justice and retribution for the trouble this has caused us; now confused and deeply hurt, our son refuses to accept our arrangements for marriage, and as the law allows him to do so, and we have no choice but to seek compensation for our loss.” Lord Delvon sat again.

The speaker, the man had held the gone, rose again. “I now call forth the speaker for the defence.”

Lorlen stood silently and repeated the oath of truth. “When Lady Delvon presented this case to me,” Lorlen began in a soft yet carrying voice, “I must admit I was taken aback. That the Delvon’s would seek to blame what they see as an unacceptable relationship on the Guild was startling. Surely, the blame here, if there is any blame to be given, rests squarely on their son’s shoulders. The Guild had no idea this kind of relationship would ever occur; not only do the Guild rules prevent liaisons between guardian and novice, the age difference and feelings involved would have suggested that this kind of relationship was impossible. However, when released from the Guild’s rules, Akkarin and Sonea were perfectly at liberty to do whatever they pleased. Therefore, the Guild had no control over their relationship, since they were not at any time during said relationship actual members of the Guild. Furthermore, the Guild in no way seeks to control any kind of relationship between their members, should it be within the restrictions of the law. Thus, the Guild has no control over whom its members choose to form relations with.” Lorlen sat down, ignoring the quiet whispers from the other group.

The speaker quieted the audience before continuing: “The offense are called upon to present another speaker.”

An unfamiliar member of Akkarin’s family rose and vowed to speak the truth. “We believe that this problem could have been solved before it began.” Her high, grating voice was nasal and instantly irritating. “The Guild should not have even considered allowing the slum girl to enter into their ranks. Its obvious people of lower classes cannot be trusted. If she had never been let in, this would never have occurred.” She sat down with a flounce, a smug expression on her face.

“The next speaker for the defence.”

Rothen seemed old and weary as he rose and spoke the vow. “Upon first meeting Sonea, I was struck by how unlike my expectations she was. When confronted with her keen intelligence, wit, and likeable personality, I was forced to review everything anyone had ever told me about the lower classes. Sonea was, in every way, a wonderful person. She had no element of bad character; I believed her completely trustworthy. I believe she made a wonderful novice for the short time she spent with us, and she was perfectly worthy of a place in the Guild.” Rothen sat, his face set and composed despite the very personal nature of what he had just said. Lorlen heard Lady Vinara sniff behind him, and had to dig his fingernail into his opposite palm to control his own tears.

 


	7. Medication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only three more chapters to go! The real climax of the story happens in the next one! (Well, unless you are a romantic like me, in which case the REAL climax of the story is in the last chapter…foreshadow, foreshadow, foreshadow…)

Another night of no sleep had led Lorlen almost to the brink of despair. He’d lain awake for a long time before sleep caught him, and for a long time after his nightmares had shaken him to wakefulness. Now, as he stumbled around his bedroom, he reluctantly mused on his day. _A Guild Meet._ The prospect had never worried him before, but now he could just imagine it; what if the Guild noticed how awful he had been looking recently? What if he _fell asleep_ in the middle of the Meet? He groaned, and dragged the white robe over his head. _All I want is quiet, undisturbed sleep…_

He sat at the breakfast table for half an hour, poking at his food, before excusing himself. Akkarin’s eyes followed him, boring into the back of his head, but for once he ignored him.

In fact, he ignored just about everyone. He sat through the Meet without listening to a word, in a daydream, so that when he heard, “High Lord? Lorlen?” he had to blink several times to come back to earth.

“Yes?” he said abstractly, focusing on Osen, who was looking at him with a concerned frown.

“Well, um…your opinion on this is?”

_Oh. Damn._ Lorlen tried hard not to panic. However, with the all the eyes of the Guild on him, this wasn’t an easy feat. He stared at Osen, trying to convey ‘I wasn’t listening!’ using only his eyes. Luckily, his former assistant understood him well. Leaning forward slightly, he allowed his hand to brush Lorlen’s, which was resting on the back of his chair. _City rebuilding. Are you in favour of the building of a second wall or not? Remember we discussed the drain on city resources, two days ago?_

“The building of a second wall is superfluous,” Lorlen said, “Though we now seem to have an enemy, building an extra wall is only a slight defence, and should only be considered once we have set right everything else in the city.” A ripple of nods circled the hall, and the conversation moved on.

Later, after the Meet finished, Lorlen found himself being led firmly towards the Administrator’s office, an iron grip encircling his arm. He tried to protest, but Osen, whose grip it was, refused. “You’re going to sit here,” Osen said firmly, seating him in one of soft chairs, “and tell me _everything_.” The Administrator sat also, leaned his elbows on his desk, linked his fingers together and gave Lorlen the benefit of his hardest gaze.

Lorlen squirmed uncomfortably. “What is there to tell?”

Osen’s stare became a glower. “Don’t give me that, Lorlen. Tell me, since _when_ have you not paid attention in a Guild Meet?”

Lorlen gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I was just-”

“If you’re going to say you were tired, then I think we have a problem.” Osen was still glaring. “You’ve been telling me you’re tired for a long time, and now having the Administrator’s job myself, I can see why. But now you are the High Lord, and you aren’t overloaded with work.” Lorlen opened his mouth to protest, but Osen cut him off: “Don’t argue. You know you don’t have enough work to justify almost falling asleep in a Guild Meet.”

Lorlen looked at him helplessly. He couldn’t put him off with some half-hearted excuse this time; Osen wanted the truth, but Lorlen was too helplessly scared to give it to him. What on earth would he say? Help me Osen, I’m going mad. No. “I-I-” he stuttered, still gazing helplessly.

Osen sighed and put his head in his hands. “I hate this,” he said quietly. “I hate seeming heartless. I just need you to tell me what’s wrong.” He lifted his head and gazed at Lorlen with that same quiet intensity that had always slightly unsettled him. It felt like his whole soul was being examined, laid bare for the other man to see straight into. This time, the gaze held something else, as well as the slight desperation, and that something was something Lorlen felt he recognised, but could not put a name to. Whatever that strange _something_ was, it made him feel strange also; almost…longing.

He desperately pushed it aside. He had to think of something to say. As he opened and closed his mouth, he realised that what he really wanted to do was just pour it out, open up fully. But if he did, how long would it take before he was just a sobbing wreck on the floor? “Osen, I’ve…I’ve been having great trouble sleeping,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Due to stress? Common sleeping trouble? Full insomnia?”

Lorlen whispered, “I don’t know,” and Osen’s frown became worried at the tone.

“Have you seen Lady Vinara?”

Lorlen squeezed his eyes shut. “No.”

Osen sighed. Lorlen felt him move out of his chair and come to stand in front of him. Cautiously peeking up at him, Lorlen saw that his expression was surprisingly desperate. “I know there’s something else, Lorlen,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Please, just tell me, whatever it is. I want to help you.”

Lorlen breathed in, frantically trying to stop a sudden urge to sob. “I-I can’t-I just can’t-say-”

Osen grabbed his hand suddenly and pulled him up into a tight hug. Lorlen stood, stock-still, for a few seconds, before burying his face into Osen’s shoulder. He couldn’t tell him, but he could still be comforting in some way, and that lessened Lorlen’s guilt slightly. He bit his lip in a vain attempt not to let his tears fall, but a few still soaked into the blue fabric anyway. Osen didn’t say anything, just held him quietly until a knock made them both start. Osen let go, seeming quite reluctant, and opened the door. A messenger stood waiting. “These are for you, my lord,” he said cheerily, handing Osen a pile of letters that would have reached his knees had they stood on the floor.

“Thank you,” Osen sighed, closing the door on the man’s bow. He turned back to Lorlen, who gave him a weak smile.

“I’d better let you get on with that. You shouldn’t leave it hanging around; the pile only gets bigger.” He moved towards the door.

Osen looked for a minute as though he might protest, but then nodded. “I hope…you feel better soon.”

Lorlen nodded. “Thank you. And, I forgot earlier; thank you for helping me. In the Guild Meet,” Lorlen laughed softly. “What would I ever do without you?”

Osen’s face twitched slightly, almost like a spasm of pain. Before Lorlen could be sure of what he had seen, though, it was gone. “It’s fine. What are friends for?”

Lorlen nodded, perturbed. _Did I see…? Did he actually look like…?_ Lorlen wondered all the way down the path back to the Residence. _And that feeling, before, when he gave me that look…What_ was _that?_

When he opened the door, he found Akkarin standing just inside, frowning. Lorlen sighed. “I know. I am a complete failure as a High Lord. Just kill me now, Akkarin. You’d be doing the world a great service.” Akkarin frowned more, shaking his head. “I’m exaggerating. I know.” Lorlen yawned. “I’m so tired…but still, things to be done.” He made to go upstairs, but Akkarin caught him by the arm. “What?”

Unresponsive, Akkarin dragged him to the door and outside. “Akkarin, stop manhandling me! Where are we going?”

Lorlen found out soon enough that Akkarin’s only intention was to go for a walk. They took a long route around the Guild, up the hill and through the forest. Eventually they came upon the spring, where they sat beside the little stream. The grass was long and sweet, and as Lorlen lay down upon it, he found himself relaxing for the first time in a very long while. He closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet scent of summer, and before long found himself asleep.

And, for the first time in a very long while, he dreamt of absolutely nothing.

_0_

Later, Akkarin was dragging him somewhere again. Refreshed from his finally dreamless sleep, Lorlen could have shaken him off, but decided to go with it. Akkarin led him around the University and up the front steps, leaving him before the Administrator’s door with a stern frown. Lorlen gave him a puzzled look as he walked off. What was special about here?

Shrugging, he knocked and let himself in. At first, he couldn’t see Osen. “Osen? Where are you?”

“Over here.”

Lorlen turned to find Osen at the other end of the room, standing on a chair and looking into the gap between a bookcase and the ceiling. “What are you doing?”

“Fly swatting,” Osen said matter-of-factly. “It’s been up here all morning, and annoying me no end.” He shifted position for a better view. “Ah-ha. I have it in my sights. Come here, stupid, annoying little pest…” He made a sudden swatting movement, then growled in frustration as a tiny black object whizzed past his nose. “Stupid animal!” he cried, following it around the room.

Lorlen sighed and smiled affectionately. He concentrated on the fly, and sent out a pulse of magic. With the fly sufficiently squished, he looked back at his friend, who was staring at it with a mixture of glee and annoyance. “You should have let me get it.” Lorlen snorted, then put a hand to his mouth, but couldn’t stop himself from bursting into laughter. Osen gave him a very unimpressed look. “The first time I’ve seen you laugh in ages, and it’s at my expense…”

Lorlen stopped and looked at him, then sighed. “I guess I haven’t been my usual self,” he said quietly. The floor, he noticed suddenly, was tinged with the last golden rays of the setting sun. “It’s almost dark; I guess I should be going.” He gave Osen what he hoped was a cheerful smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Osen.” His former assistant said nothing as he walked out.

_0_

_Soft crunching noises came from beneath Lorlen’s feet as he walked. Everywhere the floor was covered in a layer of sharp, jagged glass pieces, which fell sometimes from above with a soft tinkling. Lorlen trailed over this deadly carpet, unconcerned by the sharp pains from his bare feet and the long trail of red-stained glass he left in his wake. He was just waiting, waiting for some greater horror to come and shake him to his core._

_In time he came to a long mirror, complete and unbroken, suspended in thin air. He saw himself reflected in it, gaunt and pale. Reaching out, he touched the smooth surface, and under his fingertips it shattered into a million pieces, falling on him and around him, marking great serrated cuts into the skin of his bare face and arms…_

_0_

Again he woke with a jolt. This dream wasn’t so bad; he must not have thrashed around too much, since Akkarin was still fast asleep beside him. He sat up and looked at the moon through the half open shutters. _This has gone on too long, Lorlen,_ he thought. _You have to stop it._ But what could he do?

He lay there, thinking about the problem, and suddenly a simple, slightly desperate solution occurred to him. _If the problem occurs when I’m asleep,_ he reasoned, _then I just won’t sleep._

The next day, Lorlen felt tired, but he waved it off. Despite his brutal resolution, he felt better; he had finally been able to _do_ something about the dreams, finally been able to be more than a helpless captive to their power. The day afterwards, after lying awake next to Akkarin all night, Lorlen Healed away his tiredness and grimaced with triumph. _They can’t come back. If I never sleep, they’ll_ never _come back._

At the end of the week, Lorlen felt like death, and looked a little like it too. He had almost crawled out of bed, and now when trying to leave he found himself unable to move, and had collapsed on the floor. _I’m so tired,_ he thought absently, staring into space.

Abruptly he became aware of someone shaking his shoulder. He sighed and prepared to face Akkarin’s silent questions, but looked up to find the stern face of Lady Vinara looming over him. His eyes widened as he stared up at her. “Oh, Lorlen,” she sighed, sitting down next to him. “What are you doing to yourself, you poor dear?” She put an arm around his shoulder, and he let his head fall onto hers. _So tired,_ he thought blearily. He barely heard her talking, and followed meekly when she led him away.

_0_

He later found himself in a bed in the Healers’ Quarters, and found his critical exhaustion had allowed him to sleep dream-free for an hour or two. Lady Vinara sat by his bedside, looking worried, Osen was perched on the end of his bed, and even Akkarin had snuck in and was now hiding in the most shadowy corner of the room.

Vinara pursed her lips when she saw him awake. “Well, at least you’re not comatose anymore,” she sniffed. “Now, out, both of you,” she said sternly to Akkarin and Osen. Giving him one worried look, Akkarin ghosted in his usual silence through the door. Osen opened his mouth to protest, but closed it and left reluctantly at Vinara’s stern look. When the room was empty, she sighed heavily and smoothed her robes. “Lorlen,” she started, “I don’t want any excuses or any shame. Just tell me what’s wrong with you.”

Lorlen breathed in. “I…I’ve been having nightmares,” he said simply.

Of course, Vinara understood that these were no normal nightmares. She took out a pad and pen. “How long for?” she asked.

“About…two weeks? Three?”

She clucked her tongue disapprovingly, but only asked, “And what kind of subject?”

Lorlen shivered. “Just…lots of disturbing things. Mostly a different dream each time.”

Vinara noted it down and looked at him with concern. “I should run your head through a millstone for not coming to me earlier, but we can’t cry over spilled milk. I’m going to prescribe a series of sleeping drugs, and we’ll look further into the problem.”

Smiling, Lorlen made to get up from bed, but Vinara placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “And you’ll be staying _here_.”

“But Vinara…”

“No buts. I’m not having you anywhere else until I know what’s wrong with you.” Lorlen sighed and lay back down. Vinara smiled at him. “Don’t worry; I’m sure this will clear up.” She gathered up her notes and went to the door. “Do you mind if these two come in?” she asked kindly.

Lorlen shook his head. “They’ll only worry if I don’t talk to them, won’t they?” he smiled.

Vinara opened the door and stood back, letting Osen and Akkarin past, then left the room. Akkarin resumed his former spot, watching Lorlen closely, while Osen took Vinara’s seat. He didn’t say anything for a minute. “You idiot,” he mumbled finally.

Lorlen laughed, though it held a slightly bitter edge. “I suppose I should have told you,” he said quietly.

Osen shifted, suddenly aware that ‘idiot’ was probably not the correct name to apply to his superior. “I…I just wish you’d said something,” he mumbled.

Lorlen took his hand and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m sorry, Osen,” he whispered, “I should have told you. Really, I should.” He smiled half-heartedly. “I’m sure I’ll get better now, though.”

All Osen said was, “Uhmm,” and he pinked slightly, a reaction that Lorlen couldn’t fathom. Then he pulled his hand away and stood. “Well, I should get back now,” he announced, his voice slightly awkward. “I’ll come and see how you’re doing soon,” he promised, then disappeared.

Left in the silence, Lorlen sighed heavily and collapsed onto his pillows. Things only seemed to be getting more complicated, especially with Osen. He turned his head to look at Akkarin, who had quietly moved to Osen’s vacated seat. “What time is it?” he asked. Akkarin drew back the dark curtains, and Lorlen saw that it was twilight; nearly no light was left, and the sky had almost darkened to black. He sighed. “I suppose I should go to sleep. And you should go home,” he said sternly to Akkarin. Akkarin looked at him. “No, Akkarin,” Lorlen said firmly, “You go home.” Akkarin scowled at him and lay stubbornly on the floor. Lorlen sighed, exasperated. “You can’t sleep on the floor, Akkarin.” Akkarin took a cushion from the chair and began using it as a pillow. He gave Lorlen a look that clearly said ‘I’m staying here whether you like it or not’. Lorlen hmphed and rolled over.

_0_

He woke up again the next morning, still feeling exhausted. Akkarin was breathing quietly on the floor. Lorlen lay for a long time looking up at the ceiling before the door opened and Lady Vinara walked in, looking fairly bright and chipper. “Good morning Lor-” she stopped and stared at Akkarin. “What on earth is he _doing_?” she screeched.

“Oh,” Lorlen sat up, “he’s sleeping. I told him to go home, but he wouldn’t.”

Vinara knelt down and shook Akkarin angrily by the shoulders, and he gave her a cold glare as he woke up. “What on earth are you doing?” she asked, highly annoyed. He said nothing as usual, just glared and sat down on the bed with Lorlen. Vinara shook her head and sighed. “Well, I’ve brought you some sleeping drugs, Lorlen. Now, I’m going out to one of the outlying villages today, so I’m assigning someone else to look after you. I don’t want you going anywhere though.”

Unfortunately, Lorlen’s next Healer was scared stiff of the High Lord, and unwisely let him go home. Lorlen lay down for the night reluctantly after taking the sleeping drug, which had tasted like stale milk. Akkarin snuggled down next to him and gave him a smile that Lorlen read as ‘I’m so glad I didn’t have to spend another night on the floor’. “Well, you should have gone home,” Lorlen said snarkily, but he was secretly grateful his friend had stayed. “Go to sleep.”

_0_

_The first thing Lorlen realised was that the drug hadn’t worked. He groaned quietly as he looked around the seemingly harmless room. Obviously something was about to happen._

_Almost imperceptibly, the walls began to shake. He shivered and looked about anxiously. The shaking began to increase until the whole world seemed to be vibrating, and Lorlen held his hands about his head. He could hear a voice whispering his name, its silky tone drawing out the syllables and playing with the sounds. It kept going, and the shaking kept getting stronger until Lorlen felt himself falling, falling…_

_0_

 

 

 


	8. Possession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really care to count how long it's been since I last updated this *blush* I'm so sorry all you lovely waiting people. Anyway, here is the chapter in which all is revealed…

Lorlen groaned as light hit his eyes. _The drug didn’t work._ He sat up shakily and looked around; Akkarin had disappeared, and he was alone. He rubbed his face with his hands and sat quietly for a while, trying to convince himself to get up. It worked, barely, and before long he was dragging himself downstairs and out of the main door, forgoing breakfast. _Not hungry. I’m generally not hungry these days._ Absently, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He passed it, then stopped and turned around, staring. The hall mirror was gone. It was a large thing, and it hung in the hallway between the guest room and the rest of the house. It took up an entire wall; how could it have disappeared?! He didn’t remember anyone mentioning anything about cleaning…

Then pain erupted at the back of his head, and the world went black.

_0_

Fuzzily, the world began to regain focus. Lorlen groaned and tried to rub his eyes, feeling sleepy and drained. There was a large, throbbing pain on the back of his head, too. He pulled at his hand impatiently; it wouldn’t move… His eyes shot open and he tried to sit up. There was something holding him down, cold metal that dug into his chest. Gasping, he looked down to discover his whole body was chained to some kind of slab; thick metal links encircled his torso and legs, and heavy manacles shackled his wrists and ankles. Breathing hard, he suppressed a whimper. _Where am I?! Who’s done this?!_

He tossed and turned, but could move no more in his bindings. _Whoever’s done this knew what they were doing. I’m completely stuck._ His eyes darted wildly over the room he was in. It was the Guildhall, he realized, and it was dark. But he’d only just woken up…

Nevertheless, the Guildhall was dark and eerie. Something was glittering in the corner of his vision; he twisted awkwardly to get a better view, realizing it was his hall mirror, mounted on some kind of stand. What he was lying on appeared to be some kind of slab or table, and it was made of white stone. Marble, perhaps. The floor around it glowed, and was probably strewn with candles. Lorlen couldn’t be sure, though. He couldn’t move enough to have a good look.

Lorlen stilled as laughter echoed around the dim hall, eerie and quiet. “Hello?” he called, frantically pulling at the bindings. “Hello? Is someone there?! Can you help me?!”

Something moved in the darkness. Lorlen breathed harder, each breath coming in like a gasp. “Hello?” he whispered.

The person moved out into the light, and Lorlen relaxed slightly. “Takan!” he called, squirming. “Takan, help! Someone’s tied me to this table thing-”

“He doesn’t understand,” Takan croaked, his voice strained and hoarse.

“W-what?” Lorlen stuttered, staring at him. “Takan, don’t just stand there! Help me!”

Takan came over to him slowly, jerkily. He reached out, and Lorlen almost cried with relief. “Takan, thank you, help me-”

Instead, Takan rested his hand on the centre of Lorlen’s chest. Stilling, Lorlen stared up at him. “Takan? What are you-?”

And then Takan began to chant, ancient words, their sounds splintering into Lorlen’s very soul, and he began to get the impression that this wasn’t Takan anymore. The last thing he remembered was screaming, white hot pain, and blackness…

_0_

“And if we don’t have a stable leading body…”

Osen sighed. This meeting had been dragging on and on, when all he wanted was to push the topic they were discussing far from his mind and let it not bother him. He hadn’t seen Lorlen all day, and worry had begun to niggle at his mind. _Not that it’s not eating it up already,_ he thought bitterly, trying to look like he was concentrating on what Balkan was saying.

They had gathered tonight after Vinara had returned from her trip to some outlying villages. She hadn’t been best pleased that Lorlen had left the Healers’ Quarters, but had deemed the meeting more important. No one else had disturbed him all day, and no one had seen him. Tonight they were discussing the very real problem of having a sick High Lord.

“Is mental illness ruled out?” Lord Peakin asked sombrely.

Vinara gave a small nod. “He’s not showing signs of that,” she said quietly. All those in the room breathed a covert sigh of relief, especially the only man there not in robes. Osen had been interested to meet Arlen, Lorlen’s younger brother. Word had gotten back to his family about Lorlen being ill, and the Guild had decided to call one of them to this meeting. Osen was quite aware that he probably wasn’t seeing the normal side of Arlen’s behaviour; throughout the meeting he had, understandably, been troubled and withdrawn. Osen got the impression however that Arlen was usually a lively and talkative person, and that he cared for his brother very much. _Ah, and in that, we are the same._ He pushed the thought away; he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on its repercussions.

Vinara sighed and clapped her hands. “Unfortunately, I don’t think we’re going to get much more this evening. It’s late, and we should all be in bed. Shall we meet again at another time?” They all agreed, and when a time and place were set upon, the gathered company rose from their seats and began making their way quietly into the hall. Having set his office in order, Osen nodded and exited the room as well, locking it with magic when the door shut.

Arlen was waiting awkwardly by the door. Osen smiled at him. He was very similar in looks to Lorlen; they could have been twins, only Arlen’s face was more rounded, and contained an intangible, more earthly quality. To hear them speak, however, was like listening to the same person. “Um, thank you for letting me sit in tonight,” he mumbled. “I know I didn’t contribute much…”

Osen shook his head. “We didn’t expect you to say much,” he said, glancing at the other Higher Magicians, some of whom had stopped to talk. “You were more there as-” He stopped suddenly as a high pitched wail echoed around them. All the whispered conversations stopped, and he heard a quiet gasp from Lady Vinara.

Arlen’s eyes were wide. “What was that?” he whispered.

“I don’t know…” Osen said, pitching his voice at the same level.

“It came from the Guildhall,” he heard Balkan say, and found him striding past him, heading in the direction of the scream.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Lord Telano asked.

“I’ve no idea,” Balkan said over his shoulder, “but I’m assuming no.”

Frowning, Osen followed him, noting that Vinara did too. Another figure detached itself from the darkness and joined them as they hurried along the wide corridor.

The door to the Guildhall was slightly ajar, and a soft glow emanated from within. The unidentified person slipped over to one of the wall displays as they moved closer, silently removing one of the ceremonial longswords from its wall hangings. Osen sucked in a breath as he realized this must be Arlen; no magician would need a sword. He wondered vaguely if Arlen actually knew how to use it.

Balkan peered in round the door first, and froze, stock still. “What?” Vinara hissed at his back. “What is it?” Instead of answering, he moved further into the room, allowing them in. All three hurried through, drawing appalled breaths at what they found inside.

In the center of the Guildhall floor, a number of benches had been moved back to make space for a huge slab of white marble, waist high. A large mirror on a stand stood next to it, into which a man was peering, examining his reflection. Sprawled on the floor among the dozens of candles was Takan, unconscious; and upon the slab, tethered by thick metal chains and dressed in some sort of white shift, was Lorlen. He too was unconscious, though he twitched and tossed erratically, his muscles spasming as if he were delirious. The man looking into the mirror looked up as they entered, and his face made Osen’s insides feel cold. That was an evil face.

The man smiled. “So, the first of my prey are here already,” he whispered, his voice carrying in the large room.

“Who are you?” Balkan asked loudly, and Osen had to admit that he was impressed at the courage in the man’s voice.

“Me?” The man turned to face them fully. “I’m no one special. Skaras is my name.”

“What’ve you done to Lorlen and Takan?” Vinara asked, her voice quavering a little.

“Come here,” he said silkily, “and I’ll show you.”

Vinara started forward, but Balkan blocked her way with an arm, shaking his head. She frowned at him. “Look at him, Balkan,” she whispered, “I’ve got to go and-”

“We don’t know who that is, what they’re capable of,” Balkan hissed, “And until we do, we’re staying right here.”

Skaras laughed. “Wise words,” he sniggered, “There is nothing you can do, my lady. His life force is half gone already. Soon, it will completely gone, transferred to me, and I will be real and whole again…” His voice took on a longing tone, and he turned back to the mirror, distracted. “Yes…real. Whole. _Alive._ ”

“He’s going to die,” Arlen’s voice quavered, and his eyes were fixed on his violently twitching brother. “That man is killing him.”

Osen nodded slowly. “Balkan, what-”

“This,” Balkan growled, and he leapt forwards, throwing power out at the man. The others followed suit, letting out blasts of power. Arlen came too, shouting and raising the sword to attack.

Skaras simply laughed, a bitter, chilling sound, and waved a hand. The very air shivered, and a blast of wind ripped into them, throwing them backwards and around, picking up benches and tossing them like matchsticks. When the wind died Osen landed with a hard thump, and lay dazed for a few seconds, listening to Skaras’ demonic laugh. He lifted his head, which span a little, and saw Vinara lying all the way over by the Guild hall steps, unconscious, her fiery hair obscuring her face. He sat up and got to his feet carefully, then crouched as Skaras looked his way. “All gone,” he said in a happy sing-song, “So we’re all alone my dear. Are you feeling any better?” He paused, as if expected a response, then laughed. “No, I don’t imagine you are!”

Osen’s stomach churned with dread. He cautiously raised his head, but Skaras was absorbed with something on the other side of the slab and wasn’t paying attention to the rest of the room. Balkan was lying half on one of the broken benches, unconscious but seemingly unharmed, and Arlen was sprawled only a few feet away. Being careful to make only the barest amount of noise, Osen moved over to him. Unconscious like the others, still clinging to the hilt of the sword. Osen breathed hard. _What am I going to do? How can I save him? I’ve got nothing, and Skaras has all that power…_ He glanced up again; Skaras was still doing something behind the slab.

The glitter of the large mirror caught Osen’s eye. It belonged in the hallway of the High Lord’s residence…Why was it here?

Some flash of insight caught him. _It’s got something to do with it. And…well, I haven’t really got much to lose. Here goes._ Reaching down, he prized the sword from Arlen’s grasp and set off at a run, dodging bits of broken wood and upturned benches. Halfway there, Skaras snapped his head up from behind the slab and made a howling noise. He jabbed one finger in Osen’s direction. With a leap and a roll, Osen dodged the flash of light and kept running. _Almost there. So close…_ He hefted the sword, unused to its weight, and swung, aiming for the broad surface of the mirror. Skaras’ scream was accompanied by another agonized shriek and the shattering of glass as the mirror exploded around the blade of the sword. Osen let go of the hilt and ducked, shielding his head. Still, he yelped as shards hit him hard, piercing his skin.

When all the glass had settled, an eerie silence filled the hall. Osen knelt where he was amongst the broken mirror, breathing hard. Until a soft sob made him fly to the great marble slab.

The chains were loosening around Lorlen’s slim figure as if of their own accord, and Osen ripped at them furiously in his attempt to quicken the process. His hands were bleeding and he hissed and whimpered as the cold metal rubbed his cuts, but he kept going until a hand stilled his movements. “Stop it, you idiot,” Lorlen mumbled weakly. He turned Osen’s hand over, inspecting the damage. “Honestly, what have you done to yourself?”

“Are you alright?” Osen whispered breathlessly. _That’s just about the most stupid question you’ve ever asked._

Lorlen smiled and sat up shakily. “I’m…well…I would guess I’m…” He sort of shivered, and his shoulders started to shake.

Without saying anything, Osen reached out and pulled him close. Lorlen clung to him, sobbing quietly, and Osen allowed himself a small sigh. _Why oh why,_ he thought, stroking Lorlen’s long dark hair, _Why does this feeling assail me, even now? You’re so warm, Lorlen, you fit just right in my arms… and you smell so perfect…I just want to pick you up, take you home and lock you in my rooms so you’ll never come to any more harm._ He buried his face in Lorlen’s soft hair and squeezed him tighter. _I love you. I love you._

There was a soft moan from the other side of the room. Lorlen sniffed and sat up. “What was that?”

“Must be one of the others,” Osen said, still holding onto him. God knows he was reluctant to let go. “They were all knocked unconscious.”

“Lorlen?” Arlen’s voice floated to them across the hall.

Lorlen gasped. “Arlen, is that you?”

Osen snorted. “No, it’s somebody else whose voice is completely identical to yours.” Lorlen smacked him softly on the arm, then swung his feet off the slab. “Careful,” Osen warned, grabbing his elbows.

Lorlen huffed. “I can walk, I’m sure.”

Osen frowned, but when Lorlen got up he held his own weight quite firmly, and it only got better until he was running towards Arlen’s groans. “Little brother,” he whispered when he knelt beside him, “What have you been doing, silly?”

Arlen sat up and rubbed the back of his head, which came away bloody. “Oops,” he murmured, then took in Lorlen’s shocked expression. “You’re alright,” he breathed, before pulling Lorlen into a bone-crushing hug. Osen took that moment to covertly Heal the back of his head. Soon Balkan and Vinara joined them, both having Healed away any wounds they sustained, and they all trooped back to Lorlen’s house.

“I still don’t understand,” Vinara said as they walked back through the door. “Who _was_ that man?”

“He was a demon, who died hundreds of years ago,” Lorlen explained. He was walking fine, but both Osen and Arlen had insisted on having one of his arms around their shoulder each. “He wanted to use my life force as his own, and created a link through the dreams to associate our souls. Then, he possessed Takan and used the mirror to create a temporary link between the worlds, allowing him to steal my life force.” Lorlen shivered, “I’m so glad you all got there in time.”

Balkan frowned. “We must investigate this,” he declared, “We cannot let the matter end here. If you’re susceptible, Lorlen, anyone could be.”

Vinara nodded. “But not tonight. What you need now is some rest, finally free of those awful dreams.”

Arlen and Osen took Lorlen up to bed, at which point he told them firmly that he would be fine. They protested, but the forming argument was interrupted by a shout from downstairs. Balkan, whilst walking to the kitchen to get some water, had found Akkarin lying unconscious in the hallway. Vinara declared that he was fine, and Lorlen felt that the last piece had fallen into place, and everyone was finally safe. He drifted peacefully off to sleep, safe in the knowledge that the dreams were gone.


	9. Denouement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, six years huh? 
> 
> This is my first longfic (and, shamefully, the one I've come closest to finishing). I had the plan and half of this chapter written for six. goddamn. years. Well, I finally decided it couldn't be allowed to end that way. This story needs to be seen to it's conclusion. And so, good folks, I will be giving that to you. Enjoy.

When Lorlen resurfaced from a blissfully dreamless sleep, it was to find a crowd of people surrounding him. He blinked and sat up slowly, and everyone in the room turned to look at him, all wearing expressions of mutual concern.

Osen was perched on the end of his bed with Vinara and Balkan standing just next to him. His mother was sitting in a chair that had been drawn up next to the bed, Arlen standing behind her. Akkarin was lurking over by the window, and even Takan was in the room, covertly adding washed linen to the linen cabinet.

His mother smiled softly and took his hand. “How are you feeling?” she asked quietly.

He nodded. “Much better. Much more rested, too.”

Vinara nodded brusquely. “I said a little sleep and he would be fine,” she said rather exasperatedly to Balkan.

He looked annoyed. “Excuse me for worrying,” he snapped.

They glared at each other for a second, before Balkan turned back to Lorlen and said, “The King has been informed, and sends his condolences. He is very concerned that we start investigating what happened as soon as possible, but he’s more concerned that you are allowed to properly return to health. You are to have two weeks relieved of your duties, to recover.”

Lorlen raised a brow. “Two weeks? That seems a little excessive.”

Osen snorted. “Only to you,” he said with a small smile, and Lorlen knew he was referring to his constant attempts to persuade him to take time off back when he had been his assistant.

He grinned. “You know I hate being ill.”

Vinara sniffed. “Yes, well. All I recommend is a lot of rest, and to get yourself into a decent sleeping routine. And by that I mean _before_ midnight.” A corner of her lip twitched up a little. “But good to see you in better shape,” she said quietly, before leaving the room.

Balkan followed her out, wishing Lorlen well. Osen was obviously reluctant to leave, but he said apologetically, “Somehow rumours have got out about what happened, so it’s time for me to start the damage control. I’ll come visit when I have a moment.”

When he left, Arlen flopped down in his place. “And I thought you said nothing ever happened in the Guild,” he teased, winking.

“This must be the only exciting thing to have happened for oh, a couple of decades,” Lorlen laughed.

His mother frowned at them. “Honestly,” she said, the disapproval clear in her tone. Then she stood. “Come, Arlen, you heard the Head of Healers. Lorlen needs rest.” She smiled. “I am going to be staying here for a while Lorlen, and I’ll hear no objections. I can’t believe you didn’t speak to someone about all this earlier.”

Lorlen grimaced. “I’m sorry, Mother. I’m sure my servants will happily make you up a room.” Then he laughed, “My house certainly seems to have become busy. I thought I would live here alone ‘til the end of my days.”

His mother frowned, and Arlen laughed. “You’re so morbid sometimes,” he forced out between the chuckles. “You know a thousand girls would flock to be the bride of the High Lord, and one day a flash of pretty legs would’ve caught your eye!”

Lorlen pursed his lips, but refrained from throwing a pillow at him at his mother’s warning look. “Come, Arlen,” she said again, firmer this time, and he nodded, still laughing, and followed her out.

Lorlen sighed and laid back on his pillows. Someone else was still there, moving around by his cupboard. He raised his head slightly when the footsteps moved to the door, and Takan bowed to him silently before leaving.

Still another set of footsteps started, walking to the bed, but Lorlen could guess to whom these belonged. “Did you see who attacked you?” he asked as Akkarin sat down on the bed.

Akkarin didn’t seem to have heard him. He stretched out a hand and brushed it down Lorlen’s cheek. His mouth twisted; he opened it, took a quick breath, then pressed his lips together again. After a second he reached up and rubbed one eye in irritation. It took Lorlen a few seconds to realize he was wiping away a tear.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “Really, I feel so much better now. You don’t need to worry.”

Akkarin took another breath, coughed, and said in a rough voice, “I thought you were dead.”

It took Lorlen a few seconds of shocked silence to register the words. He shot up, not noticing how the action caused Akkarin’s hand, still resting on his cheek, to knock against his shoulder, or how Akkarin gave a concerned but muted cry at the action. “You spoke!” he shouted.

Akkarin’s laugh sounded like he’d been smoking a pipe for the past twenty years. “No need to shout about it,” he mumbled.

“You haven’t spoken for weeks!”

“Well, I may not have said anything out loud, but you at least understood me well enough.” Akkarin shrugged. “In fact, you understood what I was saying so well I may as well have been speaking. So, I dropped the not-speaking act.”

“It was an _act_?” Lorlen said, his voice still far too loud.

Akkarin winced. “Please don’t yell, Lorlen.” When his friend just scowled, he sighed. “No, not really an act. Not to anyone but you, anyway. I never responded to anyone else.” He looked down at his hands. “I still don’t know if I want to.”

The sat in silence for a few moments before Lorlen said, “Alright. You don’t have to.” Akkarin looked up at him with a soft smile. “But be warned,” Lorlen continued, “My mother is going to be staying here for the foreseeable future. You know what she’s like.”

Akkarin grimaced. “I’ll grace her with a smile,” he whispered.

Lorlen smiled. “Thank you.”

The corners of Akkarin’s mouth twitched. They sat for a while, and Akkarin took one of Lorlen’s hands and traced his fingers around the nails, the creases of the joints. After a long stretch of minutes, Akkarin whispered, “I really thought you were dead, you know.”

Lorlen looked at him with a sympathetic frown. “How did you know where I’d gone? Weren’t you unconscious?”

“Not for the whole time. I woke up, halfway through the day, feeling ill. Takan was wandering around, moving jerkily, laughing at random intervals, looking sick.”

“Is he alright, by the way?”

Akkarin nodded. “He seems fine.”

“Did he tell you where I was?”

“Something like that.” Akkarin made a face. “I remember not being able to get up. I shouted at him and he laughed. I yelled so much, it felt odd. I think that’s when I decided I could talk, to you, if only to you. Because I could yell then, for you.” He looked down.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, after everything else,” Lorlen whispered.

“You couldn’t have known.” Akkarin shook his head. “After all, a demon? Who expected that?”

“No one.” Lorlen sighed. “And now we have to investigate it. I have no _idea_ how we’re going to do that.”

Akkarin squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry about it now,” he said softly, “Try and get some sleep.”

Lorlen held onto his hand as he made to move. “Are you really alright?” he asked.

Pausing, Akkarin shrugged. “Alright enough,” he said eventually. “Much better now I know you’re on the road to recovery.”

Releasing his hand, Lorlen smiled and leant back into the pillows. “Well, get some rest yourself. We all need it.”

Laughing softly, Akkarin left the room, pulling the door shut gently behind him.

_0_

Lorlen slept. It was quiet, easy, dark, uneventful. Blissful. Above all, it was dreamless, completely dreamless.

He awoke feeling refreshed for the first time in weeks. He looked up at the ceiling, smiling, and watched the play of the sunlight on the white paint, filtered through the branches outside. The window was open, and fresh air was curling in along with the sounds of people moving outside. Voices rose on the air. He judged that it must be the mid-morning break, and the novices and teachers would be outside.

_No doubt those rumours Osen was talking about are the only and most important topic of conversation_ , he thought wryly.

He wondered about getting up. He realized he felt hungry, so he sat up and looked around the room. It was empty, so he got up slowly. His legs felt a little unstable, but after a few steps the feeling dissipated. He opened his wardrobe and regarded its contents sceptically. He didn’t feel like getting into his High Lord’s robes, but there wasn’t anything else in the wardrobe. He sighed and closed the door again; it would only be Akkarin and his mother downstairs, after all. They could handle the sight of him in his nightclothes.  

Downstairs only his mother was at the table, reading a letter. She looked up and smiled when he entered the room. “Feeling better?”

“A lot, thank you.” He sat at the table, and his mother leaned over to draw the bell pull on the wall behind her. “Did Arlen stay?” Lorlen asked as they waited for the servant.

His mother shook her head. “He went home. Your sisters are very worried, too. They all wanted to come here yesterday, but I forbid it on grounds of it being too overwhelming for you.”

Lorlen nodded. It probably would have been overwhelming, but now that he thought about it he did want to see his sisters. “Tell them they can come as soon as they’d like,” he smiled, “I’m feeling much better now.” At his mother’s raised eyebrow, he chuckled. “Come, there are only four of them.”

“Sometimes I think four was much too many,” his mother said darkly.

Lorlen’s servant appeared then, and disappeared again after being given instructions to bring some items for breakfast. “I expected you would be hungry, so some food was being kept for you,” his mother told him.

“Have you seen Akkarin this morning?” Lorlen asked her.

“No. I didn’t know he was staying here.” She looked curious, though not a little suspicious.

“He’s been here for…two weeks? I thought it was better for him than being alone.”

She nodded, but the slight look in her eyes didn’t go away. Lorlen wondered what she was thinking.

Once the food was set down in front of him he realized he really was ravenous, and he didn’t even register that Akkarin had entered the room until his mother greeted him. He grimaced apologetically at his friend as he sat down. “Good morning. As you can see, I’m feeling the effects of not having eaten for almost a day and a half.”

Akkarin smiled and nodded, and pulled some toast towards himself. Lorlen noted with satisfaction that despite all his other problems, Akkarin’s appetite had never proved unhealthy.

As soon as breakfast was finished his mother insisted on shooing him back up the stairs to bed, and he went only half reluctantly. “The last time I spent a whole day in my nightclothes was when I was a child,” he said to Akkarin as they walked down the hallway together. “I had nothing but robes in my wardrobe this morning.”

“They’re fairly acceptable clothing most of the time,” Akkarin said, smiling a little.

Lorlen pulled the screens a little tighter over his windows, and when he got into bed he relished the feeling of falling asleep with no sense of fear.

_0_

When he awoke again, there was a weight at the end of the bed. He assumed someone was sitting there, and opened his eyes to find out whom.  Then he smiled wryly and teased, “I hope I haven’t been keeping you waiting too long.”

Osen looked slightly embarrassed as he smiled. “Not really.”

Lorlen levered himself up and leant forward, turning the pillows on their ends so he could lean against them. “How is everything?” he asked.

“I should probably be asking you that,” Osen said with a slight smile.

“Oh, me? I’m perfect, right as rain.”

Osen frowned. “You’re joking with me.”

Lorlen laughed at his expression. “Well, I may not be one hundred per cent yet, but I’m much better than I was. I probably won’t need a whole two weeks-”

Osen was already shaking his head. “Oh no,” he said, “You’ll be staying right here. For two weeks. No shorter.”

“That might get a little boring. There’s not much to do in bed.”

Osen looked like he was going to make a snarky comment, but then he paused and his cheeks pinked, just slightly. “Well obviously not solely in bed,” he spluttered before Lorlen could say anything. “I just meant, not working, obviously. Definitely no work.”

“All play, then,” Lorlen said, grinning. He wondered if the blush on Osen’s cheeks would intensify with that, and his former assistant did not disappoint. Lorlen laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed, Osen. It was me who made the double entendre, unconscious though it was.”

Osen nodded quickly and mumbled something.

After a slight pause Lorlen said, "I'm sorry, Osen. In all this, I didn't even ask how you're faring. After everything."

"Me?" Osen looked surprised to be asked. "I am fine. I wasn't the one being possessed by a demon, after all."

"Yes, but you were the one enacting a daring rescue," Lorlen pointed out. He smiled softly. "Thank you, by the way. I should have said that earlier, too. Thank you. I don't know if I'd be here, if not for you. I don't know if _any_ of us would be here. What you did was incredibly brave."

Osen's blush was to the roots of his hair now. "I did what anyone would," he mumbled.

"No, don't sell yourself short. You defeated a demon, for crying aloud! Something we had no idea even existed." Lorlen shook his head. "You certainly fared best out of all of us against him. That's no small thing, my friend."

Osen was giving him a strange, unreadable look. "I had to," he said after a moment, his voice very soft, "He was going to kill you."

Lorlen felt his eyes fill a little at the look in Osen's eyes. "You have always given me more devotion than I deserve," he whispered.

"Someone had to make you their priority," Osen said quietly. "Hard enough though it is. You came close to death in the Ichani Invasion, even closer during this...incident..."

"Keeping me alive is rather a challenge," Lorlen said.

"But not one I will ever abandon," Osen said solemnly.

Lorlen sniffed and took his hand, making Osen jump. "Thank you," he murmured, "It is rare to be blessed with a friend so devoted."

Osen opened his mouth, then closed it. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, forcing only the word, "I..." out of his mouth. He held Lorlen's gaze, seemingly searching for something in his eyes.

"What is it?" Lorlen asked.

"My motives are not entirely selfless," Osen whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"I..." Osen sighed, shook his head, and suddenly leant close.

For a moment Lorlen had no idea what he intended to do. By the time he thought, _He's going to kiss me_ , Osen's lips were already pressed against his.

They stayed like that for a couple of seconds, Osen's soft lips pressed against his, Lorlen's mouth frozen and his brain racing at a thousand miles an hour.

Then Osen pulled back sharply, his expression horrified. Lorlen, still shocked, was left with his mouth hanging open as Osen shot up and toward the door. By the time Lorlen found his voice and called for him to wait, the hem of Osen's blue robes were already disappearing into the corridor.

For a few moments Lorlen sat on his bed, stock-still. Then he very loudly and deliberately said, "Fuck," to the empty, silent room.

 


End file.
